


The monster within

by thefrenchmistake



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinda, Season/Series 01, Uther Pendragon is trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrenchmistake/pseuds/thefrenchmistake
Summary: “You’ll be free soon enough,” he whispers to her when her hands shake and her breath catches in her throat as she tries to suppress the tears in her eyes and the memories in her mind.“I’ll never be free,” she claims back.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana/Uther Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	The monster within

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING : Implied Rape ahead. I hate Uther Pendragon so much, and Merlin has always been an extraordinary series as it is, but I've always liked to go deeper and darker in the characters' personality, so here goes. It's not my best, and I'm not really proud of how it turned out, but whatever. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy !

It starts with the death of a knight.

Sir Almain dies in battle, like every knight wants to go, thus making Sir Leon the new head of the realm’s knights. It is a big responsibility, the honor of a lifetime. He has proved himself, but it does not feel like enough, so he works and works to the bone, attends every strategy meeting and ensures safety in the city as well as in the entire country. He trains new knights, brings them in; he earns Uther’s respect, he believes.

And then King Uther orders him to guard Lady Morgana’s chambers.

It is not exactly astonishing, as the king has always been quite careful of his ward’s safety, but it is surprising. There has not been any alarm or urgency in the citadel, nothing to undertake this measure of precaution, but it is not Sir Leon’s place to question the king’s decisions.

King Uther passes him entering the room. Sir Leon frowns, but does not think much of the visit (they always fight when in a room together, be it about marriage or politics or arbitrary executions).

He hears a commotion, does not think much of it either (the Lady Morgana is known for some tantrums and things smashed when she does not get her way).

That’s when the screaming starts.

It’s muffled, sobs breaking off inaudible sentences but it’s enough to make the knight’s head spin and his stomach curl on itself.

He does not know what to do, has forgotten how to move; because he perfectly knows, suddenly, what is going on on the other side of the door.

It could be another fight, God knows some have ended in tears.

But it’s not; it’s not.

He stays rooted in place, thinking of blasting in, thinking of leaving, thinking of muting the sounds. It is his king, and what can a knight do in this situation ? -nothing, there is nothing to do. Time stretches indefinitely, and his ears buzz, but the sounds do not stop nor quieten.

When it is finally done, and King Uther exits the room and passes him without a single glance, Sir Leon stays motionless for long, agonizing minutes in which the screams echo in his ears and dig a hole in his brains.

Then he takes two wobbly steps to get away from the nightmarish door and throws up on the ground.

Sir Leon has always admired Lady Morgana. She is kind and respectful to all, be it nobles, knights, servants or commoners, as attests her odd friendship with both Guinevere and Merlin. She is sharp witted and extremely funny in a cynical way (she never fails to make the knights laugh when she mocks Arthur at their practice).

She knows how to handle herself, knows how to shield a sword as well as one of his friends, as well as her adoptive brother. She is smart, smarter than she is given credit for, and although Uther does not ask her opinion in council, the knights know she is behind many policies in help of the poor, financial decisions and even military questions. But the personality trait that really strikes all, acquaintances, subjects and friends, is her good heart.

So to imagine what must be done to her in the darkest hours of the night in the privacy of her room makes him shed tears, lost in their helplessness.

And he cannot keep his eyes of her in a tragic, awful trick of fate. Suddenly, he can see the pain behind the green irises, the sheer terror when the king lets himself yell or makes a sharp remark. In trainings, she stays on the side and he lets his eyes roam over her form just to make sure she is alright- as well as she can be- and verifies that no scratches or bruise can be seen.

And he wants to yell at the world and get up in Church to curse God, because how could he let something like this happen and put the weight of the sin on Sir Leon’s shoulders ?

And he wonders, day and night alike, how could Arthur not see ?

The day Arthur will understand Morgana is the day the world tips over.

The bright days have come back, grass stretching all the way to the forest and making Albion look brighter than ever. The flowers blossom in vibrant colors, blue and red and pink and yellow, and Arthur rolls his eye thinking of the bouquets Morgana must receive (when he mocks her on this, she snaps at him and leaves in a twirl of her purple dress so hastily he doesn’t know what hit him).

But this summer does not seem to appease the cold in Morgana.

He does not know how long she has been like this, withdrawing from the outside world almost imperceptibly, so slow he does not notice until this beautiful summer, when the sun shines too hot and he’s training with the knights in the court.

Morgana, despite the usual reprimands of the lords who think they can tell her what to do, assists many trainings (to learn, he knows, to train; he acts like he doesn’t know and teases her). But this day, while the knights have lost their shirts and ignore the sweat dripping from their face and back, Morgana stays silent on the side bench, and when he turns to make sure she did not leave (Morgana is seldom quiet), he finds her eyes lost in the emptiness.

It’s probably the light of the sun, but Arthur thinks he sees tears in her eyes. And then he cannot not notice.

The dark under her bright eyes tells of sleepless nights, and her flinching at his unexpected approach tells of fear.

Arthur desperately tries to quash down the worry sneaking up on him.

“Are you alright ? You are awfully quiet today.”

Something shifts in her face, and there is the perfect, deadly beautiful lady pictured by all (it makes him uneasy, for whatever reason).

“Just trying to let you concentrate. God knows you need to compensate your lack of talent by the little thinking you can do.”

He hears his knights stifle their laughter -they love listening to her quip, and although it is irritating sometimes, it is mainly amusing- and turns on his heels, pretending to be vexed.

“Then stay here and look pretty, for all I care.”

“Oh, Arthur, you truly think I am pretty ?”

“God, you are insufferable.”

And pretty, so very beautiful it’s not fair to simple mortal men.

It is odd that this is the moment it changes, but it is. He does not know why, but it makes him notice things he did not want to notice. It makes him notice the silent Leon and the sad looks he sends her way. So of course, Arthur has to look back and find Morgana with her arms wrapped around herself like she is cold even in the warmth of summer.

Now, her insults have lost their bite and her smile has lost it brightness. It feels like she’s withering, sometimes, under his gaze and for the love of God, Arthur cannot figure out why.

It begins to eat at him, this worry. He’s not used to feeling scared for her (except when she does something stupid like going missing) but he loves her so much he cannot bear to watch her drift away like this, without knowing why.

She has lost her fierceness; has lost herself, it feels like. And this realization is slowly killing him.

He grasps at every clue, every explanation presented to understand her behavior, and he eventually does.

He goes to Gaius, because the court physician has been treating her for a dozen years and must know if something is wrong with her.

“I need your advice,” is the first thing he utters on entering the room, and Gaius raises his eyes from the ancient looking book on his desk -God, what a boring thing to do with the few days he has left.

“On ?”

“Morgana.”

Gaius frowns, and Arthur paces a little before daring to speak up.

“She is… not right,” he settles on, although it doesn’t seem like enough, doesn’t seem to encompass her loss of wit and smiles and that feeling that ties his stomach in knots.

“Not right, my Lord ? Is she sick ?”

“I don’t know, which is why I came to see you !” He answers, already irritated.

He feels a little bit ridiculous, worrying about her so much when it’s probably nothing -it’s probably nothing, right ?

“I apologize my lord, but if the Lady Morgana is not sick how can I…”

“Has she come to you recently ? For… dream potions or remedies or… Anything, really ? Anything that could explain such a drastic change of behavior ?”

Gaius is silent for too long.

Arthur stops pacing, stares him down.

“Well ? Has she ?”

“I do not think it is my place to…”

“Gaius.”

“This is highly intimate and…”

“Please. It will stay between us, whatever it is. I don’t want to cause her more trouble, I just want to make sure she is ok.”

The old man averts his gaze, sighs.

“She came to me for moonlight tea.”

“Moonlight…”

Arthur breaks off.

He knows what it is, of course he knows, but Morgana would not be so stupid… He knows Uther wants to marry her off (Arthur sure hopes he can prevent this) so she cannot…

“How many times ?” He gulps.

“I do not know exactly. I did not count.”

He feels dizzy.

“Are you sure ?”

Gaius nods, still not looking at him. Arthur lets himself fall on a chair.

“How could she be so stupid ? What is wrong with her, how could she….”

“Sir, I do believe it is her own choices. You cannot keep her from doing what she chooses.”

“Like hell I can’t,” he growls. “Do you know what my father would do, if he came to know of this ? I don’t even want to know. I’m going to clear this out.”

There is an uneasy feeling in his stomach, something that burns a little, and he chooses to ignore it as he calls for Merlin on his way to his chambers.

“I think Sir Leon is courting her,” is the first thing Merlin says when inquired about Morgana.

“What ?” Snaps Arthur, sending him a dirty look from his chair.

His servant smirks this infuriating, misplaced smirk of his and just earns the right to clean his chambers agin tomorrow. 

“Jealous ?”

“Don’t be an idiot Merlin,” the Prince scoffs. “There is nothing to be jealous of.”

It sounds false even to his own ears, but Merlin is tolerant enough to let it slide.

“So, why the question ?”

“Why would you say it’s Sir Leon ?”

“Because I often see him outside her room,” he states, like it’s an evidence, like Arthur has nothing more to do than wander halls all day.

“What ?” He shouts, standing up abruptly. “And you never thought to tell me ?”

“It wasn’t your concern, Morgana is…”

“Of course it was my concern, you idiot ! How could you… Morgana is my…” he breaks off. Struggles for words. “Morgana is my family,” the prince finally settles on. “I’ll do anything to see her happy but for that I need to know what is going on !”

“Then why don’t you ask her instead of running round with that constipated look on your face and asking questions ?”

“That’s…” too logical to be well taken.

Arthur throws a book at him.

“Morgana ?”

She turns at her name, long raven hair twirling, bright green eyes striking him in his walk. Are those shadows under her eyes ?

“Arthur.”

“Can I speak with you ?”

She cocks her head, an eyebrow raised, and her lips twitch up but nothing more (when was the last time she smiled ?)

“What an honor,” she mocks, “is the Prince trying to woe me ? Win me over ?”

He clenches his jaw, smiles tightly while offering her his arm.

“Not for the world. Will you walk with me ?”

She seems curious, accepts his arm, and they walk in silence for a few minutes until he has found the courage to say:

“I know of your courtship with Sir Leon.”

Her steps falter, and she turns her head so fast he thinks he hears her neck crack.

“What are you…”

“Don’t deny it, I know all about it.”

“Arthur, I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”

“Come on Morgana,” he sighs, and is suddenly angered. “I mean, I would’ve preferred you stayed away from my knights, but as it is…”

“Stay away from your knights ? Are you serious ? What in God’s name is going on !” She exclaims, ripping her arm from his and holding herself like she’s cold. “ What are you talking about ?”

“I know Sir Leon comes to see you at night,” he admits, anger clouding both his judgement and common sense. “And that you drink moonlight tea. And it makes sense, with how he often looks at you during training.” -like he can never have her, like Arthur looks at her sometimes before catching himself and looking away.

“He does not look… What did you say ?” She asks dangerously, eyes wide and feverish. “What did you say about the tea ?”

Arthur gulps. So, drowning the fish did not work.

“I know you drink it. Gaius told me. Morgana, how can you be so careless ? Do you know what could happen ?”

Suddenly, Morgana is enraged like he’s never seen her, like fury is tearing at her skin, and he’s sure she would’ve slapped him if she had little less self-control.

“You asked Gaius about this ? You went behind my back ?”

“I needed to know…”

“You are not entitled to answers about me !” She screams, and there are tears in her eyes, and he’s not worried anymore, but scared. “You arrogant, selfish prat ! Who gave you the right ? You know nothing ! You think you do, but you don’t, so mind your own goddamn business, you pig !”

She pushes him violently to storm off, and he is so astonished by her tantrum he stays frozen on the spot.

What in God’s name just happened ?

She does not come to trainings anymore. She avoids him.

Sir Leon asks after her once or twice, and Arthur sends him sharp looks (he’s not jealous, never would be).

But annoyance becomes anger at being lied to, and he decides one day to stop waiting for Morgana to come to him and interrogate Sir Leon himself.

Merlin comes with -even if Arthur wanted to, he can’t seem to shake him off, like a well-gripped parasite- and stands behind Arthur, sat at a table before Sir Leon who seems to wonder what on Earth he is doing here.

“Sir Leon.”

“My liege ?”

“I would like to speak with you about the Lady Morgana.”

The knight’s features drop, his eyes taking a distant, sad, guilty look. Arthur glances at Merlin before saying:

“I know what is going on.”

And then, to Arthur’s astonishment, Sir Leon breaks into tears and loud sobs.

“What…”

“I am so sorry, my Lord, I am so sorry,” the man hiccups. “God forgive me, I should have said something, I should have…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” says Merlin. “No one is mad at you.”Well, Arthur is, proven by his glare.

“I am unworthy of being a knight,” he says, and Arthur frowns incredulously.

“Of course not. You may have done some… questionable decisions, but it…”

“I did not do anything,” he says and his voice sounds haunted in a way that makes Arthur believe something is profoundly wrong. “I did not act, and it is against my oath it is… It is my biggest regret. But now that you know, you can act, can’t you ? You are the only one who can.”

“Ok, I’m confused,” interrupts Merlin. “How can we act ? Why can’t you just… Ask Uther ?”

For her hand, Arthur understands. It makes sense. Not to Sir Leon, apparently, whose face becomes dreadfully pale.

“Are you mad ? He would have me killed.”

“My father would not do that,” defends Arthur between gritted teeth. “He might be mad, yes, but…”

“If he can do what he does to his own ward, a knight is nothing.”

Silence falls upon the room. There is something wrong, terribly wrong escaping two of them right now.

“Sir Leon,” Arthur slowly draws out, “what do you mean ?”

“Don’t you know ? You said it yourself, you know…”

“That you’re courting Lady Morgana.” Merlin interrupts.

The knight’s eyes widen, he chokes out a painful “what” and looks between them.

“I… I am not. I am not.”

“Then what is this gibberish about ?” Exclaims Arthur, exasperated of not knowing.

“You said… Lady Morgana…”

“What about her, then ? Why are you before her door some nights ? And what does any of that have to do with my Father ?”

Sir Leon looks around like a caged animal.

“I cannot… If you… I cannot…”

“Tell me. I will do you no harm.”

“I do not court the lady. She… God, forgive me,” he prays, tears rolling down his cheeks. “It’s the king. He assigned me to guard her room when he… When he comes to see her.”

“What do you mean ?” None of this makes sense.

“He…” the knight closes his eyes. “The things I hear, my Lord, I can’t…”

“What ?” There is dread in his stomach, fear inside his brain and black in his eyes.

“He hurts her. He… He hurts her _badly_.”

“That’s not… He beats her ?” Asks Arthur, incredulous (it’s not possible, his father loves Morgana more than anything, and he would’ve noticed the marks, he would’ve…)

“He rapes her, my Lord,” chokes Sir Leon.

And then the world crumbles under both Merlin’s and Arthur’s feet.

It takes hours and hours for Merlin to talk Arthur down once the Prince has accepted the horror of the revelation. The servant boy-loyal friend- had to restrain him, contain him to his chambers as to keep him from going after his father.

“We need to be smart about this,” he said, repeated. “We need to protect her and barging in throwing accusations will not do that.”

And then there is the question of what to do.

What to do.

Could Arthur do something about the situation ?

His father wouldn’t listen, he already knows that. Would he stop, if shown how wrong it is ?

He already knows the answer.

If Uther cannot stop at the sound of Morgana’s begging and crying, there is nothing that will make him stop.

So what is there left to do ? (He knows what.)

For now, Merlin talks him down, convinces him to visit Morgana that night; if the prince is in her chambers, his father will not dare enter.

The fury in his gut becomes cold, seeps through his veins and makes his mind clearer, and as he walks to her door, he is dead set on never letting this happen again.

“When father comes knocking, tell him I am in here.”

Sir Leon nods, determination as well as relief in his features.

It’s too real, too harsh, when he comes into the room and can hear her shallow breaths. He looks around, but she’s nowhere to be seen; the sobs though, how could he not hear them ?

He walks carefully to the bed. Crouches down.

And there she is.

She’s curled up, already crying and muttering supplications under her breath.

Any doubt vanishes, his heart breaks in pieces.

He notices the marks on her ankles, and he’s going to be sick, he’s going to be sick, to kill the king without a second thought.

This has happened before, he realizes, her hiding under the bed seeking a sense of security; the image of his father coming in and dragging her out by her ankles makes bile rise in his throat and invade his stomach.

The lump in his throat keeps him from speaking, so he extends a hand and Morgana cries out at the touch, eyes shut and a sob tearing from her throat.

He waits a second, swallows and says tightly:

“Morgana. It’s Arthur. You’re ok.”

Her eyes snap open.

“Arthur ?”

“You’re safe, I promise. He won’t come tonight.” God, he hates those words, he hates this, he…

She slides from under the bed, lunges into his arms.

“Oh God, thank you, thank you.”

Her thanking him makes tears well up, because she shouldn’t be, this is not normal, this is sickening. She shouldn’t have to thank him, any of them, she shouldn’t be hurt, she shouldn’t be crying. He holds her tight, tighter still, breathes her in.

“You’re ok, I swear. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

And even as he says those words, he knows them to be true; he will do everything in his power to make sure of it.

“You with me ?”

He asks Merlin once the servant has joined them in the room and Arthur has explained what was and what will come.

Morgana is asleep in the large bed, purple and dark stretching on the white sheets. Arthur can’t bear to tear his gaze away from her, except when he asks his question; then, he looks Merlin right in the eye, and whispers it in the silence of the room, where no soul can hear.

“Always,” answers Merlin, eyes drifting to the broken woman.

There is no lie nor deception in his bright blue irises, and Arthur feels a deep surge of affection for this man, not for the first time.

“For Morgana.”

Arthur nods. He’s doing the right thing, he knows, and that’s the only thought keeping him from killing his father right this instant (this, and the memory of a young girl laughing carelessly, hair in the wind, her lips on his, a smile splitting her cheeks).

They stay in silence for a long time, both men watching carefully the rise and fall of Morgana’s chest, her pale face where tear tracks are still noticeable and her eyes fluttering under the assault of nightmares -both memories and visions of the future.

Then Arthur begins to think, and does it out loud without realizing, telling in hushed tones his deepest confessions to Merlin.

“It all makes sense, suddenly. Those nights she would beg me to sleep in her room, on the floor or in the bed, when we were already too old for sleepovers. But, you know, she would beg me, and you know how Morgana is. I didn’t see it then, but there was something… In her eyes, something akin to despair, and that’s probably why I always agreed.”

“Or because you can’t refuse her anything.”

“Who can,” Arthur sighs.

Had he known, he would’ve stayed every single night by her side. There was a time that stopped. It became too inappropriate (when he couldn’t help but stare at her lean form, and her lips taunted him and her velvety touch and voice surfaced in his dreams) and it had stopped altogether.

If Arthur had to pinpoint it, he would say that’s the moment she started drifting away from the world.

“There was this time,” he whispers again, afraid of his memory and the consequences of his inaction. “She… She confronted him, she provoked him, she pushed him too far and he… He just grabbed her throat and pushed her against the throne. He just… Grabbed her like that. She didn’t even seem surprised. She had… She had bruises afterwards. And I didn’t do anything. God,” he breathes slowly and hides the tears by hanging his head low. “I didn’t do anything. Always daddy’s good boy,” he spits, “always looking for approval. But not at that price, God, not for the world. I could’ve at least stepped forward, and she would’ve known she could talk to me. She could confide in me. I’m so ashamed, Merlin.”

In a rare and bold gesture of comfort, his servant puts his hand on the prince’s arm and waits for him to meet his eye.

“There is no need to be ashamed. We all think we should’ve done things differently. But the only one to blame here is Uther. He’s the sole guilty of hurting her.”

“No more.”

It’s a promise and a curse that echoes on the stone walls.

When she wakes up and spots Arthur, Morgana drops her eyes in shame.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out.

He crouches next to the bed and clutches her hand between his.

“Listen to me carefully; you have noting to be sorry for. This is over. You’re safe now. He won’t ever touch you again.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, brings him on the bed with her. He complies to her demands, letting her bury herself in his side, nose in the crook of his neck, frail arms tight around his torso.

And all these taunts he sent her, about no man loving her, about nothing to be jealous of, about not being enough, sometimes, how he wishes he could swallow them all back and choke on them.

Because she deserves so much, so much more than being treated like this (no one deserves this) and the horrors going unnoticed, than being forced to live hiding her secret and pain inside while it sucks her dry and destroys her until she implodes. He loves this woman so much, and he is finally ready to show her.

Because there is nothing else, is there ? Even if there was, would he choose it ? (he wouldn’t; his father has to be stopped).

She deserves everything. She deserves a kingdom, she deserves to be safe and happy in her own home; she deserves to know what a home is and to rule like the Queen she was always meant to be, with care and intelligence and fierceness like never seen before.

And so he will protect her if it’s the last thing he does.

“You’ll be free soon enough,” he whispers to her when her hands shake and her breath catches in her throat as she tries to suppress the tears in her eyes and the memories in her mind.

“I’ll never be free,” she claims back.

Arthur wants to tell her she’s the strongest of them all, that she will push through this kicking and screaming and biting like a Fury because she is destined to much more than being a victim in a man’s story; he says none of it, holds her close and kisses the crown of her hair as the wind whistles around them and whispers promises of a brighter future to come, born from the soil of their sorrow and betrayal.

Merlin confesses.

Maybe it’s Morgana’s pain or Arthur’s trust that leads to this, them in her room with Merlin standing before the royal couple. Maybe it’s guilt. In any case, Merlin lights a candle with foreign words on his mouth and a gleam of golden eyes.

Morgana merely lets three seconds pass before wrapping her arms around him and whispering things that bring tears to the boy’s eyes (Arthur will never know what it is. Neither will ever say).

Both striking looks land on his stunned self. His head is spinning, but not as much as when he realized his father was a disease. His hands are steady. He is not scared, nor uncertain. Morgana smiles at him, beautiful and broken.

Uther has always blamed magic for the world’s plagues, but he is a lying, deceiving monster capable of doing what he did -rape, he raped her- to his own ward, and who knows who else.

Thus Arthur simply nods, and after a moment of reflexion, comes up to hug his stunned manservant.

“This will all be over soon,” he says in his ear. “And then we can all live.”

How many had lived broken and beaten under Uther’s reign, he wonders. Hiding their pain to survive. His two closest friends -lovers, siblings, and everything in between and beyond- have so much hurt inside he cannot help but see it pour from their every word, now that he was made aware.

No more indeed.

They waste no time, barely a week in which they make sure Uther cannot reach Morgana. Then, one evening, Uther Pendragon dies. Under two unforgiving blue set of eyes and a golden, foreign one, Uther Pendragon chokes on his own blood and guilt until he is finally gone.

Gaius diagnoses it as a disease brought by old age; he knows, but does not care. Who would care for a man who cared for no one but himself ?

Sir Leon knows. Sir Leon is glad, and smiles tightly at Lady Morgana when he sees her, trying to swallow his guilt instead of gaging on it every day.

The day of the coronation is one of happiness, one of revival, rebirth.

As soon as Arthur is King and has proclaimed Morgana Queen, to the joy of the entire kingdom, he declares the ban on magic lifted. It is a laborious change that requires time, energy, changing of minds, but eventually, they manage it together.

And slowly, the color urges back up to Morgana’s pale cheeks, her smile gets wider, more sincere. Her eyes still watch the door every night though, even with Arthur and Merlin by her side. It will take a long time for her to fall asleep without fear paralyzing her limbs, without waking up from a sickening touch in a scream. But, eventually, she will. Eventually, there will be no more fear.

And the world sees the golden king, his sage councilor, his beautiful, mythical queen; they see the saviors of Albion, the good rulers that will burn bright through the centuries and will stay in memories like those who saved and did good and ruled fair and were just. Like those who were destined to rule.

No one will know what went down in the castle; no one will know of the pain and the hatred and the murder to establish a reign that would forever stay in the legends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave kudos and comments, they really make my day, even more so on a work as serious and dark as this one is.


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